Page 13 of Wild and Wanted

‘Electra,’ Stevie repeated. Now that was an aptly named horse. Her fear and fury had been electric, infusing the scene with a danger that had been both powerful and enthralling. ‘You said she had baggage. What happened to her?’

Man and horse plodded along a few more paces before Clay answered, still without glancing her way. ‘She was one of a herd of mustangs that a landowner a few hundred miles from here just over the border in Colorado had captured and was trying to break in for sale, but Electra was having none of it.’

From her vantage point, Stevie saw the curve of his mouth tilt up at the edges as if he admired the filly’s stubbornness.

‘This guy’s methods were… well, let’s just say old school. She was malnourished, had whip marks that were infected and didn’t trust anyone. The rancher was arranging for her to be taken away for pet food.’

Stevie shook her head, her soft heart crushed at the thought that anybody could treat another living thing with such callousness. ‘How’d she get to the RVR?’

‘A buddy of mine – Ivan, he’s the local farrier – came across her, offered to take her off the owner’s hands and brought her here.’ He grinned then, his lips lifting in full humour. ‘With difficulty. She almost broke bones as she tried to kick the float to pieces.’

‘Why here?’

‘Because he knows that I’m the best and I appreciate a horse with high spirits.’

His cockiness might have been irritating on anyone else less competent but on Clay Calhoun, it was just plain sexy. He was so obviously comfortable in his skin and so sure of this environment. ‘Why not just… let her go?’

‘Because she’d needed treatment for her wounds and nutritional support and some time to get over the psychological wounds that her last owner inflicted. But it soon became obvious she wasn’t going to be a great candidate to be released into the wild because she’s too mistrustful and anti-social to join a band of wild mustangs. And a lone mustang doesn’t survive out there during the lean times.’

‘Oh.’ Stevie’s soft sigh barely disturbed the warm air hanging heavy around her like a curtain. ‘The poor thing.’ Tension oozed from every muscle cell as Stevie was swept up in Electra’s plight.

‘It’s okay, she has a place here now.’

Stevie lifted her head, peering out from under her brim, squinting against the bright yellow hues of the landscape as she scanned around her at the grass heads that seemed to stretch on forever before craggy peaks rose to meet them in the distance. Plenty of room to roam here, plenty of food and people who cared. It wasn’t full run of the open plains, wind in her mane, the company of other wild mustangs by her side, but it would be a good life.

‘What if she wants to leave?’

‘By the time she’s socialised enough to be with other horses, she won’t want to leave. This will be her home.’

Once again his confidence did strange things to her pulse. ‘And how do you do that?’

‘Patience. Baby steps. Gain their trust, become their friends.’

‘She didn’t look particularly friendly yesterday.’

‘Each horse is different and depends on their backstory. Some horses are easy, some are more difficult, but you’ve got to start by meeting them where they are and every new stage of their handling will be like starting over. I’ve been working with Electra for three months to get her to yesterday and she knows me and trusts me. I can saddle her up easily now but getting on her back was another first and I always knew it was going to be a wild ride.’

‘And you’re used to that? To being jostled around like that?’ Stevie remembered the sway and snap of his body as he rode Electra in perfect counterbalance to her furious, panicked bucking and rearing. She remembered his concentration. His calm.

One shoulder lifted in a light shrug. ‘I rode broncs as a pro for a bit.’

Stevie blinked. Well… that explained it. As well as opening up a bunch more questions. Her mother saying your father tells me you’re the best played in her mind and Stevie wondered if Clay Calhoun was some big deal she should have known about and made a mental note to do some googling.

‘Time’s up,’ Clay announced, breaking into her reverie as Gertie eased to a halt.

What? ‘Already?’ Because now she’d finally relaxed and found the rhythm of the horse, Stevie was actually sitting comfortably.

‘It’s an hour lesson,’ he said as he turned to look up at her, his hand stroking Gertie’s neck in long, slow swoops that ended dangerously close to her knee. ‘And you took up half of that insisting on learning how to mount from the ground.’

It wasn’t an accusation and Stevie thought she heard a slight note of admiration in his voice for both her insistence and persistence. And, whether he intended it as a compliment or not, her head got a little big.

‘Oh… sure,’ she said, kicking her brain into action as he looked at her expectantly. She glanced at the reins and the saddle and the hypnotic movement of his hand before she stared at the ground which was a long way down. ‘How do I get off?’

He broke into a smile for the first time since his case of the cranks and Stevie was whammied again by another change in his mood. ‘The same way you got up.’

She looked at the ground again. ‘Okay.’

‘You want the mount block?’